In one field some loose horses, seeing so many of their kind in the lane, galloped up to the fence and stood there snorting.

These were still in their colthood, however, and the saddle-horses merely flicked ears in their direction and gave them no more heed.
"I'm glad you're sure of the country, up here on top," Luck said to Applehead when they had climbed, by the twisting, sandy trail, to the sand dunes that lay on the edge of the mesa and stretched vaguely away under the stars.

To the rim-rook line that separated this first mesa from the higher one beyond, Luck himself knew the sand-hills well.
But beyond the broken line of hills off to the northwest he had never gone--and there lay the territory that belongs to the Navajos, who are a tricky tribe and do not love the white people who buy their rugs and blankets and, so claim the Navajos, steal their cattle and their horses as well.
At the rim of lava rock they made a dry camp and lay down in what comfort they could achieve, to doze and wait for daylight so that they could pick up the trail of the red automobile..